A Second's Hesitation
by SerenLyall
Summary: Not all kinds of fear are the same. Not all sorts of anger spur the same reaction. While visiting the city of Minas Tirith with Elrond nearly a hundred years after the end of the Last Alliance, Celebrian finds herself in an uncomfortable situation-one that she had never even imagined. Even if she feels the fool, however, there will always be those who will be her strength.


**Disclaimer:** Lord of the Rings, Minas Tirith, Elrond, and Celebrian are not mine. The characters Callombel, Torndar, and the rest of Torndar's friends are of my own creation. No profit was made from the writing of this.

**Rating/Warnings:** Teen. Mild sexual themes, threats of violence.

**Time frame:** Probably somewhere between 100-107 of the Third Age. Elrond and Celebrian were married in 109-this takes place before the two of them begin courting.

**A/N:** I don't mind admitting, this was something of an uncomfortable piece for me to write. However, it was a request, and due to the content and matter discussed herein, I couldn't _not _write it. So write it I did, and I am at least partially pleased with how it came out. Many thanks to Jabber for her support, encouragement, and review/editing/betaing of the story.

First of all, thank you to each and every one of you who is reading this story. Secondly, thank you in advance to any of you who may take the time to review or favorite. I would love feedback, of course, but most important is my hope that you enjoy!

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**~A Second's Hesitation~**

He found her sitting atop a low garden wall that overlooked the river nearly a thousand feet below. She did not turn as he wordlessly climbed up to sit beside her, mirroring her as he draped his long legs down the far side of the sheer, white stones, nothing but empty air and the gentle waving of prairie grass beneath his feet.

The wind whispered around them, curiously gentle for a spring night in Minas Tirith. It played with her silver tresses, sending the edges swirling about her shoulders while the moon bathed them in liquid light, causing the carefully pinned curls to gleam. A cloak lay at the foot of the wall behind her as did her soft leather boots which lay at the midst of the crumpled pile of navy cloth.

His voice was soft when he spoke at last, the dancing breeze carrying his words aloft and bearing them up toward the star-strewn heavens with a waltz. "What happened?" he asked her. He did not even question if something was wrong.

A sigh, as gentle as the breeze. "I feel a fool," she said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. She turned her head to look at him, and her silver hair shifted in the wind once more, dancing around her. "Elrond…" But then her lips curled up into a bitter sneer, and she turned her face away.

Elrond did not take his eyes off her, taking in her bowed head and slumped shoulders. "Celebrían," he said, a little sternly, and reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder, "you are no fool. You should not think that way."

Celebrían snorted indelicately. "Oh but I am," she snapped, stiffening under his touch. She did not, however, look at him, nor pull away.

It was Elrond's turn for his mouth to twist into something of a sneer, although there was little contempt in the gesture. "I am, apparently, a Master of all lore – wise in all things," he said dryly. "I know a fool when I see one, Celebrían…or so the rumors say. But regardless of whether those rumors are true or not, I can still tell you this with certainty: you are no fool. I have never once thought so."

"You never think that anyone is a fool," Celebrían retorted. "You always see the good in people."

Elrond laughed, and the sound was surprisingly light. "On the contrary," he said. "Of all my numerous acquaintances, I believe there are a mere handful I have never thought a fool."

There was truth in his voice, even if Celebrían could not quite accept it. But nevertheless, she at last looked up and turned to meet Elrond's eyes. "You will think less of me," she said quietly. So quietly, that the breeze nearly stole her words away and sent them flying out into the air above the city before they could reach Elrond's ears. But he heard them anyway.

"Never," he said firmly. And this time Celebrían believed him.

"I went down into the city tonight," Celebrían said at last, taking in a deep breath before beginning her tale. "Callombel accompanied me. Unfortunately, although he does his best, he cannot protect me from everything – especially my own foolishness and naivety…"

~oOo~

The sixth level was ablaze with light, despite the darkness of night. The streets were lined with lamps, and the golden glow of firelight spilled out of the doors and windows of the lavish homes to either side. Music and song drifted through the air, mingling with the clean breeze and the scent of flowering greenery.

Celebrían smiled easily, half-closing her eyes and allowing her head to fall back as she drank in the sights and sounds of peace and prosperity. Callombel, who walked easily beside her, laughed lightly at her expression, a smile of his own twisting his lips.

"Are you laughing at me?" Celebrían teased, lifting her head so she could look over at her companion.

"Of course not, my lady," Callombel replied, laugh disappearing but for the gentle twinkle in his eyes.

"Good. For if you were, that would be _highly_ inappropriate," Celebrían told him sternly. The effect of her chastisement was lost only an instant later when she neatly stepped into him with an impish grin, using her elbow to send the tall, dark-haired warrior staggering to one side.

Callombel caught himself with a surprised laugh, and he righted himself with an amused shake of his head. Celebrían looked at him questioningly, but Callombel did not divulge what it was that had caused him such amusement. He merely looked at her for a moment longer, before turning his gaze forward once more, an unreadable expression in his eyes and the faintest of grins on his face.

Shaking her own head at the quiet nature of her companion, Celebrían turned her attention forward as well, although her thoughts remained on the guard. Callombel was kind and courteous, and at first glance overly serious. Indeed, when Elrond had first introduced them, and informed her that Callombel would be her guard for the duration of their stay in Minas Tirith, Celebrían had been dismayed at his gravity. He was loyal – that much was clear – and Celebrían was certain, even from their first meeting, that he would give his life for her if the need arose. Yet he seemed so silent and solemn.

_It seems I have a habit of misjudging when it comes to silence and a propensity for propriety,_ Celebrían thought, vaguely amused. _I did much the same with Elrond, and now I am in love with him…_ A soft, tender smile curved her lips at the thought. Yes, she loved him with all of her heart, yet at first she had thought him rigid and cold and too serious by far.

Callombel, it seemed, was far more than she had given him credit for as well – a fact that she had slowly been learning over the course of the last week. He was kind and courteous, yes, and quiet as well. Yet he also had a surprising sense of humor, and a love of song and dance. And his smile, when it would come – which was more often each day – was warm and kind, and seemed to fit him like birdsong in spring.

Laughter and voices brought Celebrían's thoughts back to the present, and she glanced around, searching for the source of the disturbance. She and Callombel had come out onto a wide thoroughfare that curved around the outer circle of the sixth level, and in the distance Celebrían could just make out the gate to the fifth level. Like the streets before, the causeway was filled with light, but instead of rich homes, shops and brightly lit taverns lined the streets. A fountain was playing merrily in a small courtyard of stone to their left, the water sparkling in the torchlight as it fell into a sweeping basin, and behind the fountain came drifting the squeak of a fiddle and the trill of a flute.

The voices were coming from a cluster of young men walking beside the fountain. They were richly dressed, and as they turned and shoved playfully at one another, Celebrían caught sight of gold and silver rings on their fingers and in their ears.

They caught sight of Celebrían and stopped. Celebrían bit back a laugh at their apparent surprise, although she felt Callombel stiffen beside her. Even though it had only been a mere century since the Last Alliance, many mortals had already forgotten the beauty and might of the Elves, and Celebrían had noted that especially the younger men and women were particularly taken with her and her kin.

For half a moment, the young men simply stood still as if in a trance as Celebrían and Callombel walked down the road, toward where the group was standing. Just as they were drawing abreast of the fountain, however, one of the young men – one of the leaders of the group, Celebrían suspected, judging by his cocky grin and the way his friends stood half a step behind him – called out to them.

"Good evening, my lady," the young man said, stepping forward so that he was standing directly in their path. The man bowed, his dark hair brushing messily across his forehead as he straightened once more, the feathery locks threatening to fall into his startlingly blue eyes. He was smiling charmingly, and there was an air of assurance about his stance that told Celebrían he was well-accustomed to getting what he wanted.

"Fair evening," Celebrían replied with a smile, inclining her head slightly. If she had expected the lad to look affronted by her lack of a curtsy, Celebrían was disappointed. The young man only smiled wider, and stepped closer.

"I am Torndar," the young man said with yet another charming smile, "and these are my friends Bornoth, Helmdur, Emár, and Selth." He swept his hand back, indicating his companions who were still standing beside the fountain, watching the proceedings with interest. As each was introduced, he would bow and smile. Celebrían gave each a nod in return. "We were all on our way to Mist Glass for a drink. You and your friend," the young man paused for a breath, waiting for Celebrían or Callombel to correct him. When neither did so, he went on, "are welcome to join us, if you would like. There will be music as well and, if I may be so bold, I must admit to never having met an Elf before." He blushed prettily. "There are many questions I would like to ask, if you would be kind enough to listen to me blather."

~oOo~

Celebrían sighed and shook her head as she paused in her tale. "I do not know what possessed me to take up his offer," she admitted. "I was…curious, I suppose. Curious about him and about Minas Tirith. And he was earnest in his desire to know more about Elves." She smiled wryly. "Perhaps a little too earnest, and a little too interested."

~oOo~

The Mist Glass was a well-lit, two-storied inn whose common room doubled as a tavern and eating house. It was clean and welcoming and, although if Celebrían had been surprised at the men's choice of patronage when she had first seen that it was also an inn, after stepping into spacious first floor, she thought she had a good idea why. The main hearth was cold and dark, but finely sculpted glass lamps hung from the ceiling, and the long oak tables that filled the right half of the room gleamed with polish and care. Fresh and unsullied rushes were scattered across the floor, and atop the counter running the full length of the left-hand wall, Celebrían caught sight of a tabby cat cleaning its whiskers.

There were a dozen other men in the common room. Most were sitting around tables in groups of three or four, drinking wine or a rich, amber liquid that Celebrían guessed to be ale or cider. One or two of them halted and looked her way when she entered behind Emár and Torndar, and they gave her respectful nods.

Torndar and his friends led the way to a table near the cold hearth. They sat around the long table, Torndar pulling out a chair for her to sit, then claiming the seat beside her. Callombel made no comment, but Celebrían could sense his displeasure in the way he stood behind her with one hand tightened almost protectively on the back of her chair. Torndar, it seemed, did not notice her guard's displeasure.

"So tell me, my lady," he said, turning to her and leaning in with one elbow on the table, "where do you hail from?"

"First of all, call me Celebrían," Celebrían said, sitting comfortably back in her chair. Callombel moved his hand quickly so that he would not be touching her back, and she heard him take a step back.

"Lady Celebrían?" Torndar asked with a grin.

"Just Celebrían," Celebrían laughed. "And to answer your question, I come from Lothlórien, although I was born in Ost-in-edhil."

"Lothlórien!" Torndar exclaimed. "I have heard tales of that fair wood. Tell me, is it true that there are trees whose tips disappear into the clouds?" Yet again Celebrían found herself laughing, and Torndar blushed and ducked his head. "Foolish question," he mumbled.

"On some days, when the clouds are thick or a storm rolls down from the mountains, it is true that the tops of the trees are shrouded," Celebrían said quickly, trying to quell her amusement. "It is likely that is where the tales come from."

"Is it beautiful there?" Torndar asked, looking up once more.

Celebrían smiled wistfully. "Very," she told him. "Lothlórien is one of the most beautiful places in all of Middle-earth. It is eclipsed only, perhaps, by Rivendell."

"You have been to Rivendell as well?" Torndar asked with amazement.

"I have lived there for a number of years," Celebrían admitted. "My mother and father are friends with Lord Elrond, and I…" Celebrían trailed off, silencing her words. "Well, he is kind," she corrected.

~oOo~

"Kind?" Elrond teased gently.

Celebrían let loose a dry laugh, and gently hit his arm with a loosely clenched fist. "Yes," she defended herself. "I speak only the truth." Elrond shook his head, but made no other comment on the matter, although the faintest of grins quirked his lips.

"He seems like a kind enough man," Elrond said instead. "Perhaps a bit earnest, but that is not entirely unexpected."

Celebrían looked up at the lord of Imladris, searching his face for any indication of whether he meant what he was saying, or if there was hidden meaning to his words. But if he suspected where her tale was going, he had hidden his emotions well. Celebrían sighed.

"Oh yes," she said ruefully, dropping her gaze once more. "He _was _kind, and courteous. Mostly…"

~oOo~

Helmdur was in the midst of an amusing story concerning one of the many squirrels that like to terrorize the city when Celebrían first felt Torndar's foot against hers. She shifted slightly, neatly crossing her legs so as to give him more room.

Helmdur finished his tale to much laughter, and Celebrían took a small sip of her wine. It had been an enjoyable evening. The company was pleasant and charming, and she had found that it was easy to laugh at their antics. The men were still young and exuberant, and full of life and laughter. None of them had been sullied by the blood of war, or even the memory of the evil that still lay so fresh in the memories of the Eldar.

Bornoth began a tale of his own, recounting the hunt he had gone on with his father and elder brother the week before when Celebrían felt Torndar's hand brush against her knee. Celebrían stiffened in surprise. Slowly his hand began to creep up her leg, fingers brushing against the smooth cloth of her skirt. Surprised and touched with anger, Celebrían flicked her eyes over to Torndar in a glare.

He met her blue gaze with a small smirk, but his hand ceased its encroachment, then fell away. He leaned in. "What, does this not please you?" And then Celebrían felt his hand brushing against her side, then creep to her back before slowly making its way downward.

~oOo~

"I froze," Celebrían said, hoarsely. "It felt as if my mind had suddenly spun out of my control. I could not order my arms to move, or even my tongue." She laughed derisively. "I was caught like some little, naïve child. I was…afraid. And I was crippled." Celebrían drew in a deep, shuddering breath.

Elrond reached out and took Celebrían's hand gently. She did not stiffen or pull away, but rather clutched his fingers tightly in a bruising grip. Elrond did not comment, merely rubbed his thumb soothingly over her knuckles. At last, she looked up and met Elrond's steady, silver gaze. There were tears in her eyes.

"There is no shame in being afraid," Elrond said softly. Reaching up, he wiped a lone tear that escaped down her cheek.

With a choked sob, Celebrían pulled away from his touch, her hand sliding from his as she turned her head down the plains far beneath. "How can you say that?" she asked after an eternal moment of silence, her hands twisted together in her lap. "How can you – _you_, a hero of three wars and the renowned son of Eärendil – say that?"

"Do you think I am never afraid?" Elrond asked. He longed to reach out and take her into his arms, to hold her close as she wept. But he held himself back.

"No," Celebrían said shakily. "No, that is not what I am saying. But you can face your fear; you are not helpless in the wake of your own surprise and distress."

"Celebrían, I have seen you face down wolves. I have watched as you calmed a panicked and rearing stallion, and I cannot even count the number of times you have faced down my councilors – and Gil-galad's – and put them in their place." Elrond carefully turned Celebrían's face toward him with a finger beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Celebrían, you are not weak. I have seen you face – and defeat – fear countless times."

"But," Celebrían began, pulling her head back and breaking away from Elrond's touch once more.

"No," Elrond said firmly with a shake of his head. "No 'buts,' Celebrían."

Celebrían sighed, and buried her face in her hands. "I still feel like a fool," she admitted quietly.

"We all do, at some point in life or another. Come, why do you not finish telling me what happened?" Elrond prompted lightly.

"Thank Eru for Callombel," Celebrían said with a sigh. She buried her face in her hands once more, not willing to meet Elrond's eyes as she began her story again.

~oOo~

"I would not, if I were you." Callombel's voice was low, and there was a rippling undertone of cold steel and night-dark ice beneath his words. "The Lord of Imladris would cleave the fingers from your hands for touching her so – if I do not do so first." And then Celebrían could feel Callombel move up behind her, his footsteps as soft and threatening as a wolf's.

Torndar recoiled, yanking his hand back, as if stung. "What are you doing, fool?" Torndar asked, turning quickly in his chair with a sneer curling his lips and a glare turning his gaze cold. One hand went to the back of Celebrían's chair possessively. "Are you challenging…"

The solid _thunk_ of metal meeting wood rang through the suddenly still and silent common room. Torndar froze, eyes bugging in his face and his mouth half-open, leaving him looking very much like a fish out of water, or a mouse watching the hawk flying overhead.

"Next time," Callombel said softly, his voice like poisoned ice, "it _will _be your fingers." He reached up, seized the hilt of the dagger, and drew it from the wood in the back of Celebrían's chair, neatly sliding the blade between two of Torndar's fingers without leaving even a scratch.

"Come, Lady Celebrían," Callombel bade as he sheathed his dagger. Offering a hand to her, Callombel did not even look at Torndar or his friends as he said, "Let us depart this foul company."

Dazed, and feeling as if her limbs had been disconnected from the commands of her mind, Celebrían took Callombel's proffered hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. For half an instant, Celebrían's legs, which trembled with the lingering traces of her fearful paralysis, nearly gave way beneath her weight. But then Callombel's hand was at her elbow, and his solid strength beside her, supporting her and holding her upright. He would not let her fall.

They were nearly to the door when Torndar found his voice – and his pride – once more. All throughout Celebrían's rise and departure he had remained silent, watching her out of the corner of his eye but not daring to do more than glare sullenly. As she and Callombel reached the door, however, he stood abruptly and turned, eyes blazing as he sent his chair tumbling to the ground with a loud _crash_.

"You are a fool," Torndar hissed, taking a step forward and lifting his fist. "You should not have stopped me." He grinned wildly. "My family is powerful in the city. I can ruin you."

Callombel laughed – really, truly laughed. He flung his head back, and let loose a peal of mirth until it sounded as if the very walls rang with the music of his laughter. But then he quieted abruptly, dying as if his vocal chords had been slit, and his eyes snapped to Torndar's once more. There was no mirth in his gleaming eyes, nor in the crooked smile he bestowed upon the lad.

"You think you can threaten me? Her?" he asked, voice deceptively calm, crooked smile still in place. "You truly think your family, or even your family's power, could ever even _touch _us?" Callombel laughed again, this time low and dark. "You play with what you do not know, child – you play with the power of the stars, and dabble in the shallows of time. You make mock of being a warrior and great lord. You think yourself wise, yet you are naught but a babe. You are a fool, Torndar of the house of Eckermont."

Torndar stiffened, eyes going wide as he heard his full name. "How…" he began, involuntarily taking a half step away from the shining figures in the doorway.

Callombel's smile did not falter as he turned away, and took Celebrían's hand once more. "Come, Lady Celebrían," he said, "let us depart."

Celebrían nodded mutely, and followed the guard out into the night.

He did not release her hand until they were off the main thoroughfare. Even so, he did not speak, merely stared straight ahead as he half-guided, half-shepherded her back toward the Citadel.

Neither of them spoke a word.

~oOo~

"I thanked Callombel at the gate," Celebrían finished. "Thanked him, and then fled." She ducked her head, seeking to hide the faint blush that stained her cheeks pink by burying her face in her hands once more. "And now you know," she whispered. She laughed bitterly, although the sound was muffled by her hands. "So, do you think me a fool?"

Celebrían felt Elrond's hands on her wrists, and then he was pulling her hands away from her face. She looked up slowly, eyes stinging with unexpected tears and her throat feeling unusually tight, as if she could barely breathe.

_I am afraid,_ she thought numbly. _Again, I am afraid. I am afraid of what he will say. What if he does think me a fool? What then?_ The faintest tinges of despair, which had been kept at bay by the mortification of recounting her tale, crept into her heart. Suddenly, she was not sure if she could even meet his steady, silver gaze. She was not sure she could stand to see the emotion there – or even worse, the absence of emotion.

"Never a fool," she heard him say, voice soft and strangely hoarse. The wind bent around his hand as he cupped her cheek and drew her face up, although still she refused to meet his eyes. She could not bring herself to do so. "Celebrían…"

Despite herself, her tears spilled forth. The _care _in his voice, the warmth of his touch, the way the very wind itself seemed to caress her forehead in a gentle kiss…no longer could she keep her tears at bay.

Fingers, calloused but yet still soft and gentle, wiping at her cheeks, carefully cleaning the tears away. "Hush, Celebrían," Elrond crooned softly, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and drawing her to his chest. Celebrían did not fight, turning into him and burying her face into his shoulder as all of her emotions from the night came pouring out – the fear, the shame, the anger, all released as a flood through a broken dam.

"I am sorry," she sniffed wetly, at last pulling away, and reaching up to wipe her own cheeks. The wind, which whipped suddenly around her, tugging at her hair once more, chilling the teardrops still clinging to her skin. "I do not normally…I mean…"

Elrond's smile was kind, and yet not patronizing or pitying. "I know," he said softly.

Swinging his legs over the wall, Elrond hopped nimbly down to the grass on the other side of the thousand-foot drop. Then he held out a hand to Celebrían. With only a second's hesitation, she placed her hand in his, and allowed him to help her stand, and then drop down beside him.

To her surprise, Elrond did not immediately release her hand. Instead, his hold tightened for an instant, and when she glanced up at him, she caught the full weight of his silver gaze. She could not breathe, so intense was his look, the emotions that clouded his normally even gaze unreadable.

Elrond blinked, and Celebrían could look away. Releasing her hand, Elrond turned and stepped away from the wall. Celebrían turned after him, but did not follow as he stopped a few paces away.

"Thank you, Celebrían," Elrond said after a moment of singing silence. He turned, and he was smiling, the unreadable emotions wiped clean from his eyes. The infuriatingly still and emotionless mask was back in place, hiding his thoughts and feelings behind cool, steady silver. "I am glad that you feel you can trust me."

"It is I who should be thanking you," Celebrían said quietly, her words barely audible over the song of the wind. She stepped forward hesitantly. "Thank you, Elrond," she whispered. She smiled. "Thank you."

A flicker of indecision flashed across Elrond's face, and his right hand twitched, as if he yearned to reach for her. His breath caught, and for an instant, that unreadable and crushing weight reared in Elrond's eyes once more, like a wild flame roaring to life. Celebrían felt her own breath catch, her heart stilling in her breast as, for half a heartbeat. For an instant – for a fraction of a heartbeat – it felt as if she could see down into Elrond's very soul, could read every fear and hope and longing there.

And then it was gone, and Celebrían could breathe once more. Strangely, Celebrían wanted to weep, as if in sudden loss – as if some warmth had been torn away from her very soul, leaving her barren and cold and alone.

"Come," Elrond said, voice strangely hoarse. He offered an arm courteously with a small bow and a soft smile. "If we do not both return soon, Glorfindel will fret himself into a second grave."

Celebrían laughed, and was surprised at just how easily the laughter came, bubbling up from her chest like a spring of cool, refreshing spring water. With a smile and a playful half-curtsy, Celebrían took Elrond's arm, turning with him and allowing him to escort her down the path toward the brightly lit windows at the far end of the gardens.

Above the stars shone white and blue, and the wind sang as it danced around the white stones, rejoicing. The night was bright and filled with joy. And as Celebrían laughed, it seemed to her as if the stars and the wind itself joined her.


End file.
